


He shines like liquid gold

by Valura_nafaria



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Angst, I Tried, It's a spinoff but not really, M/M, Mostly because Zhengting is my baby and I can't hurt him, So idk its VERY LOOSELY BASED OFF HQ/J, Two Shot, Xukun is the Joker, Zhengting is Harley Quinn, and yes its probably a romanticised version of their relationship, is this considered angst idk but its certainly not fluff, so Suicide Squad haters can say goodbye ;-;, wait for the next chap for more Kun, we shall see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-21 10:23:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14913608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valura_nafaria/pseuds/Valura_nafaria
Summary: Zhengting saw beauty in the darkness......And Xukun sees darkness in the beauty.And hypothetically, it ought to have been a perfect match.But sometimes, things just don't work out that way, do they?





	1. You're the sun, and I'm your Icarus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my mutuals who supported my crackhead self](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+mutuals+who+supported+my+crackhead+self).



> Fair warning: there are curse words being used and (slightly?) graphic descriptions idk I minimised it a lot alr I think it's not that bad :') but ya don't read if you're not okay with abusive relationships ehrjkahf

_It’s love_ , Zhengting thinks as he observes the man with raven hair curling up against the rusty pipes, unbothered by the lizard carcass rotting just a few inches away. _And it’s love,_ Zhengting knows as his hand gravitates towards the silver bars, when he pushes the cell door open and steps into the tiny space, suddenly overwhelmed by a mess of feelings he can’t even begin to comprehend and oh god, he’s _staring_ at him now.

 

 

_“Patient, Cai… Xukun?”_

 

Its the intensity of an unfamiliar gaze and the paleness of his skin, its the way his red lips curl up in angles Zhengting had never known possible and _fuck_ , its the way he just _eyes_ Zhengting like he’s the most expensive toy on the shelf that makes his legs go weak. And Zhengting knows he shouldn't feel this way, shouldn’t enjoy the tingling sensations that make him all lightheaded when he imagines those fingernails raking up and down his body leaving trails of red that marks him as _his_ property. 

 

 

_“…That’s me.”_

_“Well, how are you doing today?”_

 

_“Mmm, fine.”_

 

Zhengting should've run off then, jumped into the welcoming arms of yet another bewitched professor who no doubt would have breathed in his scent and whispered calming words in his ears and _god_ does Zhengting hate the feeling of having men wrap their dirty arms around his waist. But its far too late to even consider leaving this place because Zhengting _swears_ there is some sorcery taking place and he can’t take his eyes off his ward. He’s not even sure he’s trying anymore, but it hardly matters because the man is pushing himself off the ground and he just _looks_ at Zhengting with eyes all round and bright and innocent and— _fuck, what is he doing now?_

 

Suddenly he’s much too close for comfort, and he's standing a metre away. Zhengting doesn’t even _notice_ the outstretched hand, because even the faded scars running down his fingers pale in comparison to the curve of his jaw and _that tongue piercing_ that has Zhengting thinking all sorts of things and _fuck, has he always been this kinky?_

 

_“Well then, shall we take a seat?”_

 

 

It’s certainly not his intention, but Zhengting can’t say he minds as he feels Xukun pull him into his lap. It’s uncomfortable to say the least, the two of them pressed against each other fully clothed, precariously balancing on the sorry excuse for a bed that makes Zhengting cringe. He’s fairly certain Xukun’s legs don't even _fit_ on the bloodied mattress, but what’s _thinking_ when Xukun just lifts his chin and just _kisses_ him so aggressively Zhengting can't even find time to breathe before his back hits the floor, Xukun’s entire weight upon his body and he thinks he may have broken something.

 

But the pain barely registers because Xukun _sees_ his finger bending in the wrong direction, and so he frowns and _already_ Zhengting is distracted but he feels cold metal and warm liquid touching his neck and _oh lord, its all he's ever wished for._

 

 

_“W-we shouldn’t be doing this.”_

 

_“If that’s what you wanted, then you shouldn’t have entered in the first place.”_

 

 

And he absolutely detests how Xukun is always right, because that’s always been _Zhengting’s_ skill, for heaven’s sake. It’s how he's made it to the top, flirting with all the right people and leaving gentle touches in all the right places until one by one they press him against plush leather seats, his tinkling laughter resonating around the room as they unbutton his clothes. Even now he gets butterflies in his stomach when Xukun so much as glances at him, and its pathetic how low Zhengting has descended because of this deranged man. But most importantly, Zhengting hates himself for relishing every moment he has with the madman named Cai Xukun, because Zhengting _adores_ him so fucking much it hurts.

 

But Xukun always disappoints, and Zhengting can’t forget the countless times he's been left writhing on carpets, rugs, and wooden floors _moaning_ for more and missing the warmth but _Xukun’s already gone_. And he never comes back, always flashing Zhengting a lopsided grin that makes Zhengting wish he could just climb into his lap and tug at his lip so hard it bleeds. As if it'd ever be enough. ‘ _Not right now, baby,’_ Xukun would coo, making Zhengting’s breath hitch because _God, his husky voice makes him so much more gorgeous_ and Zhengting could never resist.

 

_“But here I am…”_

 

_“But here you are…”_

 

 

Zhengting loves the sound of Xukun’s laughter, thinks the manic quality adds a layer of depth that no ordinary being can imitate. And he supposes that’s what keeps him coming back for more, even when Xukun repeatedly beats him within an inch of his life and threatens him with _everything_ from lighted cigarettes to rusting penknives. But its just Xukun’s way of caring, and Zhengting _knows_ this because he's never bothered wasting energy carving off a piece of flesh from his victims’ corpses nor shown enough mercy to shove them against a wall. And Zhengting thinks its _hot_ how riled up Xukun gets every time he crawls over to him begging for more as he bleeds out of ten different puncture wounds and holds back his screams when Xukun digs his fingers into his skull and rams it against glass windows. 

 

And that was all it took.

 

From that moment on Zhengting always obeyed, strangely content with being a rag doll to be abused and used because _its Xukun, goddamnit,_ and he's the only thing that keeps Zhengting afloat. Its about the way the his lips capture the light even in the absence of gloss within the dark, isolated cell that drives Zhengting wild, and its like Zhengting’s become a magpie because Xukun is his gold, silver, and treasure. He’s everything he's ever wanted, everything he has to work for because _Xukun isn’t his_.

 

 

_“…And now, you’re mine to keep.”_

 

* * *

 

 

If there’s one thing Zhengting wants besides sex, its Xukun’s undivided attention. Both are things that exist far beyond his reach, and Zhengting thinks that’s what makes the chase all the more thrilling. 

 

It’s because Xukun _always_ glares at him condescendingly when he approaches on all fours with furry cat ears pinned to his freshly curled hair that took him hours to perfect, orange blush much too overdone. And Zhengting likes how it makes him look part drunk, mostly sunburnt, and he _knows_ the little cherry imprint under his left eye is enough to drive men wild.

 

Its because Xukun isn't like any of the other nasty men who barely last a minute as they watch him undo his robe and perch on a nearby table, laying just within arms length as the pounce on him like hyenas and the uncultured swines they are, eating right out of Zhengting’s hand and giving him exactly what he wants.

 

Its because no matter how hard he tries, Xukun never so much as spares him a second glance and it makes him all the more desirable because its a _challenge_ , and Zhengting _loves_ to torture himself because _fuck,_ when Xukun does it it feels _so good._

 

 

And Zhengting really does everything Xukun wants him to do. More often than not Xukun doesn't even have to say anything because _Zhengting understands._ It’s a bond that makes him feel special, and he knows its the crazed look that appears in his eyes whenever he launches into another incessant ramble about _Xukun this,_ and _Xukun that_ which makes all his friends crinkle their nose in disgust and turn away with wary gazes.

 

A long time ago they'd tried to tear them apart, but Zhengting couldn't dream of a life without Xukun, and so he'd cut off all ties with them and gone running into Xukun’s embrace. He remembers Xukun pulling him close and whispering sweet nothings into his ears, recalls turning limp in his arms as Xukun supported his weight and tucked him into bed, before leaving with a gentle command to _get them out of my sight, Zhengzheng._

 

Which was why Zhengting had set off the very next day at dawn, Xukun gripping on to the steering wheel by his side as they rode off into the sunset, Zhengting trying his best not to choke on the clouds of smoke wafting his way as they left Xukun’s parted lips. _‘I’ll teach you later, Zhengzheng,’_ Xukun had promised, and Zhengting knows this time its for real because Xukun has five bags of weed by his side. _‘For now, focus on the task at hand, baby.’_

 

Zhengting admires how _easy_ Xukun manages to make everything sound, he really does. It takes every fibre of his being to resist undoing his seat belt and just lean over casually like Xukun always does, and he _knows_ Xukun is aware he's desperate because he chuckles and the sound is enough to make Zhengting bite his lips and tighten his fist because _fuck it sounds so good_ and he _needs_ Xukun inside of him right now. And so he whines and pouts in the most adorable way possible and he thinks he must _really_ love him because Zhengting hates being called cute and yet-

 

_‘Later, baby. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves now, hmm?”_

 

_“But Kunkun, I—“_

 

_“What did I say about calling me Kunkun, baby?”_

 

 

Its the way he says it that makes Zhengting pause, cower, and whimper all at the same time. But its worth it because Xukun’s fingers are now on Zhengting’s head, rubbing a sore spot that makes Zhengting hiss in pain because that’s where Xukun had cut just last night. Zhengting would very much have preferred if Xukun’s lips could replace the tightening grip on his wound because _it hurts_ , but Zhengting’s only ever tried asking for more once and it had gone so horribly wrong Zhengting still shudders at the memory.

 

But soon enough they’re crashing through doors and Zhengting feels Xukun holding his hand and for a moment he forgets how to function until Xukun pushes him forward and _oh my God, he’s holding Xukun’s favourite gun._

 

“Z-zhengting, what are you… what are you-” Those were the last words he remembers hearing before he'd pulled the trigger. It was exhilarating, and soon enough Zhengting finds himself giddy with joy and he thinks he finally understands why Xukun always fires more than once.

 

It’s because he _can_ , and because its _fun_ and suddenly Zhengting is laughing just like his boyfriend and sinking into Xukun’s arms and hearing _baby, baby stop now._ But he doesn't, can’t find it in himself to let go of the gun and he feels Xukun’s grip on his forearm tighten and he knows he's in trouble when Xukun lets out a low growl. But Zhengting’s long forgotten the concept of safety, so instead he flips around and straddles Xukun, waving the gun in his face all giddy with joy and overcome with unwarranted confidence.

 

It takes barely a second before a knife is thrust into his abdomen, and Zhengting almost cries out but he catches himself when he stares into cold eyes and raised eyebrows. It’s a familiar sensation by now, but Zhengting thinks he’ll never get used to the pain, especially when Xukun just casually turns his wrist and _fuck it hurts like a bitch._ It’s as if Xukun doesn’t comprehend the concept of bones and ligaments because he stares so innocently as he does it but Zhengting knows thats a lie. He’s seen Xukun amputate and conduct unlicensed autopsies one too many times so he _knows_ his boyfriend knows he's hurting. But if it makes him happy, then Zhengting will play along, because all he wants is for Xukun to smile. 

 

* * *

 

 

_“Let’s make a bet.”_

 

Its been about an hour since Zhengting had snuck into the dark cellar, donning black satin and bejewelled chokers and he knows he looks gorgeous with Xukun’s glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He’s a bundle of nerves as he descends the spiral stairway because its dark, and Zhengting has never had the bravest heart. Zhengting holds on tightly to the bottles of whisky in his hand, praying Xukun likes the alcohol because it was expensive, and Zhengting would never forgive himself if his stupid brain ruined his chances with such a perfect specimen.

 

_“That’s mine.”_ He hears as he slips through the crack in the doorway, frozen in place because _how has Xukun seen him already?_ But he barely has time to think before pink and green neon lights blind him, throbbing headache intensifying because there’s loud, crude music just blasting through the speakers and Xukun’s _there_ , in the midst of the chaos and looking like he belongs to the graffiti walls and pails of red that reek of iron.

 

They’re matching, Zhengting in his unbuttoned dress shirt hanging low, exposing his collar bones and Xukun in a jacket that fits perfectly around his lean frame. “You’re beautiful.” Zhengting confesses throatily and Xukun just tilts his head to the side, amused and possibly flattered but Zhengting thinks he's probably heard it a million times. “Y-You’re beautiful.”

 

_“Really…”_ Xukun muses, rolling his head backwards and Zhengting forgets how to breath because _now he sees it_. Zhengting doesn’t know if its permanent or temporary, and he hopes its the former because he can’t wait to sink his teeth into Xukun’s neck because _that tattoo._

 

 

_“…You like it?”_

 

Zhengting wants to deny it, because he doesn't want to give in. But the whine that escapes his throat has him turning all shades of pink and he bolts for the door because _he's so embarrassing_ and now Xukun probably hates him for being so easy. But he feels a pair of strong arms wrapping around his torso and Zhengting is pulled backwards, stumbling as he's reintroduced to the blaring lights that are shining straight into his eyes. And it stings, a lot. _“Baby, don’t run away.”_

 

 

_“…Teach me.”_

 

It’s Xukun’s turn to be confused, and he's quite sure its not the drugs messing with his brain because its _only been three hits_. But then Zhengting motions towards the discarded packets on the table and he actually _mewls_ in a sickly sweet voice, and Xukun is annoyed but mostly turned on because _fuck, he looks good tonight._ And so he decides to indulge his toy, crashing him against the wall because _why the fuck not_? 

 

_“Wait a moment, baby,”_ Xukun laughs as Zhengting pouts at him. _“We’re going to start small.”_

 

And he does, because Zhengting looks like a baby and Xukun is much too lazy to carry him back to bed if he knocks out again. The first time had been borne out of mercy, but Xukun’s obsessed with novelty and would never show kindness twice. Which is why he watches in silence as the doe-like eyes follow his every move, why he purposely drags out the process and rubs white powder onto the cigarette filter at the slowest pace possible because it _makes Zhengting call his name_. And its the desperation in his voice that drives Xukun higher than any drug ever will, and he glances up to see Zhengting’s eyes all watery and fixated upon his own. 

 

It makes Xukun think he's rather strong to have held out as long as he has without sunglasses to protect his dainty eyes from the lights Xukun knows are much too bright, and he's tempted to let him go further but there’s mercy left in him so he slides his own shades off and places it on Zhengting’s head. “What about you?”

 

But he shakes his head and inhales, Zhengting writhing in his embrace because _he wants in._ And he almost loses his mind when Zhengting wraps his legs around his hips because there’s friction hitting the most intimate parts of his body and Xukun can’t resist as he leans down and tugs on Zhengting’s lips, exhaling until a cloud of dust blurs their vision.

 

And he grins when Zhengting gasps for air, finds satisfaction when Zhengting has the audacity to hit his shoulder. But Xukun’s much too exhilarated to even think up a punishment so instead he just grips onto Zhengting’s wrist and pulls him in for another intoxicating kiss. And Xukun could go on for hours, senses numbing more and more by the second but Zhengting pulls back, and Xukun’s about to complain when Zhengting’s lips find his throat, nipping and sucking and Xukun has to pause because _this is some vampire bullshit._

 

 

_“Stop.”_

 

Xukun takes a step backwards, untangling their interlocked limbs and he watches as Zhengting topples onto the ground. So he kicks him in the gut because he's _testing_ his patience, but Zhengting doesn't seem to mind so Xukun does it again. Soon he's loading up syringe after syringe of dangerous substances, but he’s not giving them away for free so he crouches down next to Zhengting and flashes him a smile. 

 

_“Do you want more?”_ Its a question, but the answer has already been set. And Zhengting is forced to watch in silence as Xukun inhales and exhales to the rhythm of the bass, wispy smoke leaving his lips and Zhengting sees dangerous visions through the faded grey.

 

_“Xukun, please…”_

 

_“Hmm… convince me Zhengzheng.”_

 

_“I need you.”_

 

_“That’s not good enough.”_

 

* * *

 

 

_“You look good today.”_

 

_“R-really?”_

 

 

Zhengting misses their time in the cell, because at least for those ten minutes Xukun had been entirely focused on _him_. But now that attention has waned and its been _months_ since Zhengting has stood less than a metre away from his lover because now Xukun just slams doors in his faces and flings him to the side and Zhengting doesn’t know why.

 

 

_“… No, you don’t.”_

 

And Zhengting wonders if its because he's become ugly. They say lovers will grow to resemble each other but its not happening fast enough because Xukun _just keeps getting more attractive_ while Zhengting is left in the dust _._ So Zhengting decides to take matters into his own hands because he doesn't know how much longer he can last without Xukun’s palms running up and down his body and _fuck_ , he even misses the feeling of cold metal slicing through his skin.

 

He remembers every version Xukun has spun for him with regard to the origins of his white skin. The first time they'd sat down for story time, it had been something along the lines of an abusive aunt, a bottle of bleach and a rag. Zhengting had felt sorry then, indignant and all ready to fight for his lover until Xukun had grabbed him by the wrist, then the waist, dragging him onto the couch and saying _‘make me feel better, babe’._ Zhengting wonders how he'd read the signs so horribly wrong because he _swears_ Xukun was about to kiss him but suddenly there’s hot iron on his stomach and Xukun’s just grinning in the most psychotic way and Zhengting doesn't even know where he'd procured his weapon. 

 

But as time passes Zhengting realises Xukun will always be one step ahead, because when Xukun decides to kill, its always elaborately planned and flashy. Its the reason why his handsome face is plastered all around town, its the reason why everyone knows Zhengting as his _queen_. He doesn't even take offence to the misgendering, because a king _needs_ his queen, and Zhengting is willing to do _anything_ to have Xukun treasure him with such importance.

 

 

_“Is something troubling you, Zhengzheng?”_

 

_“I-I… no, Xukun.”_

 

_“Good.”_

 

 

Its all a downward spiral from there, because between the ice packs and tender kisses Zhengting remembers his eyes fluttering shut and Xukun dabbing acid on his chest because Zhengting’s not allowed to fall asleep until Xukun does. And its hard to fight the sleep because Xukun is humming a song now and Zhengting wants to treasure each and every moment but the pain is paralysing and he's just a mess and _fuck_ , he really wants to fall asleep to Xukun’s voice.

 

And its an unhealthy obsession, Zhengting _knows this._ He’s known it since the first time he'd looked into those eyes but he's even clearer now because there are five gallons of bleach just staring back at him and he’s _laughing._ He wonders if Xukun will be proud of him, but he doesn't dare to ask because _this is a surprise._

 

Lovers always surprise each other and Zhengting is excited because Valentine’s day is around the corner and _he’s_ going to be Xukun’s present. And he doesn't even mind if he dies in the process, because then Xukun has to look at his corpse, and Zhengting knows he’ll looks good even then given the five hours he spent on his makeup today. And so he plunges in and _oh god, it hurts so much_ because he has open wounds on his arms but he’s at peace because he can _see_ Xukun’s face in front of him.

 

_“Baby, what are you doing…?”_

 

_“It’s your present. Do you think I’m pretty now, Kunkun?”_

 

 

_“Mmm…”_

 

And he knows its twisted, the way his heart beats faster as Xukun lifts him out of the burning liquid. Its the way Xukun chuckles as Zhengting hisses at the cold air hitting his body that makes him realise he's too far gone. Which is why Zhengting cries as Xukun leans down and trails kisses down his neck because _he’s so beautiful_ and Zhengting doesn't deserve this. 

 

But it worries him because he's noticed that Xukun never kisses the same place twice, never plunges a knife or glass shard in the exact same spot and Zhengting’s worries because he’s been starving himself to resemble Xukun more but _what if he runs out of places to touch?_

 

Its the same way he feels when he prances around town ripping posters of his boyfriend off the streets, gathering them and smoothing them out before running home in a frenzy to paste his new finds on the wall. But where Zhengting always manages to find new holding rooms for his belongings, Xukun would probably never do the same because Zhengting’s just another plaything. 

 

_“Kun, will you ever grow tired of me?”_

 

_“…And who's to say I haven't already?”_

 

 

And Zhengting knows its true, because Xukun seems to function perfectly fine without him and it frustrates Zhengting to no end. Its because Xukun is Zhengting oxygen yet somehow Xukun is capable of locking himself in his own room away from him for days on end. 

 

Somewhere along the way Zhengting’s anger and irritation had morphed into concern because _what if he’s dead?_ And Zhengting knows its unlikely because once again _its Xukun_ , but the man is unpredictable and Zhengting is vulnerable and prone to overthinking because Xukun’s _not_ by his side.

 

“Xukun please, please come out.” Zhengting yells, all frantic and messy hair and mascara running all over the place because he's _so worried._ And he pounds on the door for the nth time but Xukun’s not responding and Zhengting had run out of post-its to slide through the cracks. He’s tried every trick in the book, but the bullet-proof door isn't budging and Zhengting swears the chainsaw should've worked. He wonders if he's insane enough to blow up the doorway with dynamites and he thinks he may be because he's _so, so desperate_. 

 

Which is why he aligns the TNT bombs Xukun had gifted him one day, hidden in the middle of red roses and white petals and Zhengting recalls the sheer _joy_ he'd felt when Xukun had walked in with such a bouquet because _it was for him_. And he remembers jumping into Xukun’s arms and its romantic because Xukun was _willing_ to die with him. 

 

 

_“Happy birthday, baby.”_

 

_“It’s not my birthday…?”_

 

_“Well, it is now.”_

 

 

And he’s about to bring the match to the rope and that’s when Xukun _finally_ appears at the doorway in all his glory and Zhengting doesn't know whether to be angry or relieved because Xukun always makes him feel a million different emotions and Zhengting always loves the ride. 

 

 

_“Okay, I love you, Kunkun.”_

 

 

“You were very noisy, Zhengting.” Xukun hums and Zhengting’s exhaustion dissipates because _he’s here_ and everything feels right. And he doesn't know when he begins sprinting but he's in front of Xukun and the next second he's on the floor but this time Xukun’s not on top of him.

 

“Kunkun, I missed you so much.” Zhengting wheezes as he chokes on his own saliva, because Xukun’s walking towards him with a bottle in his hand and Zhengting is _ready_ for whatever Xukun has in store for him.

 

_“You’ve been a very bad boy, Zhengzheng…”_

 

And its music to Zhengting’s ears. So he fumbles over his words and wraps his arms around Xukun’s legs as the latter brings the bottle down over his skull and crushes his hand against the glass shards. With their proximity he can _smell_ Xukun’s cologne and it makes him dizzy and high because Xukun is his drug and he’s intoxicated like always.

 

_“Doesn’t it hurt, Ting?”_

 

 

And that’s when Zhengting finds out that Xukun needs him as much as he does, because he releases all his pent-up frustrations at once and now Zhengting is battered and bruised, immobilised because _he can’t even feel his fingers anymore_. It’s the farthest Xukun has pushed him, and Zhengting recalls begging for more because _now Xukun’s touching him_. And Xukun’s happy by the time he's done with Zhengting, covered from head to toe in perspiration and Zhengting thinks he's more mesmerising than ever.

 

* * *

 

Xukun is like Zhengting’s sun, and Zhengting loves the thought of it because then he can play the roles of Icarus, a moth, and even a planet and he likes how versatile he becomes when Xukun shines upon him like liquid gold.

 

But Zhengting’s only human, and as much as he devotes himself to Xukun, there always comes a time when Xukun’s blatant disregard for his lover pushes Zhengting over the edge and he really, really wants to beat Xukun up but _he can’t_. And Zhengting knows he’s not powerless, certainly not because he’s killed at least half as many men as Xukun has.

 

Which is why he storms into Xukun’s bathroom on a thundery night, lighting illuminating the pale figure almost fully submerged in the water and its an electrifying sight. Because Xukun’s surrounded by explosives and dangerously balanced candles, and Zhengting has to remind himself that he’s here for a _reason_ , and that reason was not to be concerned for Xukun’s safety.

 

_“Zhengting, what did I say about knocking?”_

 

 

_“…You’re a monster, and I hate you for using me.”_

 

 

Zhengting knows he's trembling, and he hates himself because _Xukun notices_ , and its fucking obvious because he's grinning like he always does when he gains the upper-hand. So he pushes his hands into his pockets and fiddles with the gun Xukun gave to him last Sunday and _fuck, why does it fit so perfectly into the curves of his fingers?_

 

_“Does my Zhengzheng not love me anymore?”_

 

_“It’s hard to love when you gain nothing in return…”_

 

 

 

_“Then kill me.”_

 

 

And Zhengting is stunned, because its an open invite and _Xukun’s_ the one waiting now. He hears Xukun’s voice whispering _come here, baby,_ and he's conflicted because he _needs_ to move forward to indulge but _how_ does Xukun always make it seem like he’s the one in charge?

 

_“Aw, come on baby. Can’t do it?”_

 

Zhengting desperately wishes to wipe the smug smile off of Xukun’s face because he _knows_ thats what Xukun wants him to do. And Zhengting lets out a bitter laugh because _once again_ Xukun has the upper hand and Zhengting has already lost. So he collapses to the ground and leans against the wall while Xukun smirks and walks over to him, bending down and wiping his tears and _fuck, why is Zhengting leaning into his grasp?_

 

 

_“You never loved me…”_

 

_“That’s a lie, baby… You know I do.”_

 

It’s always been this way, and Zhengting can’t escape.

 

Its because every day he remembers how Xukun pulls him close at night when it gets rainy and shows his most vulnerable side to Zhengting. It’s a part of him that no one else is privy to, because the joker is now _crying_ and its Zhengting’s turn to sip wine in silence and all that’s missing is the violence because Zhengting couldn’t possibly hurt Xukun.

 

And its because Zhengting knows, that beneath the mask of a raving, homicidal madman lived a tortured soul crying out for love and acceptance. Xukun was nothing more than a lost, injured child trying to make the world laugh at his antics and Zhengting _couldn't_ possible leave him now. 

 

 

But most importantly, its because every time Zhengting tries to leave Xukun’s already waiting at the end of the line with a marker that transforms their full-stop into a comma.

 

 


	2. Words I could never say...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the devil dancing in your eyes... that keeps both you and I alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First two sections are more graphic, afterwards it's really more sentimental so I guess just a warning, don't read if you can't handle gore and that kinda stuff uwu

When someone mentions Xukun’s name, the usual advice to follow would be to run. To just scurry away and source for shelter because you’re _never_ safe when he’s around. 

 

And Xukun never really understands why they’re so grossly mistaken about him, because he’s _always_ smiling when he approaches strangers but he guesses the old adage about ‘stranger danger’ or whatever crap is the one to blame. 

 

_“Smile for me,”_ is the basic part of his routine. It’s a staple in his line of work (and he supposes that of a photographer), because if Xukun’s taking something as precious as a life away, then he supposes he’s obliged to give something as priceless as laughter and smiles in return. 

 

And if they don’t give it willingly, then he takes it from them.

 

 

_“Baby, hold onto this for me?”_

 

_“S-sure.”_

 

It’s a simple operation, really. Xukun’s willing to teach anyone who wants to learn, but he’s only ever had one student besides Zhengting. He was a little boy, perhaps a little over the age of 10, Xukun isn’t quite sure because _how_ is a ten year old supposed to behave? You couldn’t possibly ask Xukun, because he’s fairly certain it’s the twenty-one stitches he’d gotten on his head when he was fifteen that has wiped his memory clean of everything that took place before. And to this day, Xukun has no idea what his monstrosity of a father must’ve done to him because he can’t recreate such a large wound no matter how hard he tries, so he supposes his father truly was an extraordinary man worthy of all the praise in the world.

 

But it hardly matters, honestly, because who needs to think when there’s trusty old _muscle memory_ and Xukun’s always proud of how well-polished his knives are because _wow_ it slices through ligaments like a dream. And he finds himself glancing at the boy hidden behind the sofa as he operates on his father and he can’t really tell if he’s in awe or shock. _“It goes like this, watch carefully.”_

 

It takes about ten minutes where it usually takes five, mostly because somethings off about it all and Xukun finds he’s dissatisfied with the end product. Perhaps its because he has an audience, but he’s reached the end of his hairline and there’s really not much left to slice so he shrugs and lifts the man’s face up. _“Hey kid, your dad’s smiling at you.”_

 

But the child doesn’t move, so Xukun sighs and drops the limp body, pulling off his rubber gloves and walking over because he needs _some_ form of confirmation _._ And he never actually gets to hear it, because that weakling actually went and had a heart attack and _fucking froze_ on the spot. It makes Xukun disgusted because that’s next level cowardice, so he doesn’t even bother making him smile because _losers don’t deserve to get the last laugh._

 

And he recalls it making the headlines because the media is _actually_ gullible enough to think there’s a second serial killer in their midst, and Xukun wants to laugh. But laughter is the greatest reward. So he remains silent, sipping wine mixed with ice down in the basement where he lays upon a bed of nails, purposely misaligned because _what’s the fun_ in balancing without getting punctured? But he doesn’t even sink that far, so he pushes the contraption aside and waits for it to meet the perfect prey.

 

 

_“Kunkun, it hurts.”_

 

 

_“I’m sorry darling, but you’re it’s true master.”_

 

_“O-okay.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Xukun will be the first to admit that no one has ever captured his attention quite like Zhu Zhengting has. But ultimately, he thinks, its all the same. Because just like everyone else, Zhengting cowers when he calls his name.

 

 

 

But its _not_ the same.

 

Because where others curl into infantile positions and beg for mercy, Zhengting always meets his gaze with such conviction and innocence that oftentimes it haunts Xukun in his sleep. And it’s the way everyone else closes in on themselves when he approaches that makes Zhengting’s gravitation towards the flames all the more prominent. And he knows Zhengting’s aware he’s playing with fire every time he steps foot into Xukun’s room so _why_ does he continue _, why?_

 

_“Kunkun…”_

 

 

Xukun, as everyone knows, is an expert manipulator. It’s an indisputable fact, and he knows it drives the media wild because he's unpredictable and vicious but all he wants is to make the world a better place. It’s the reason why he's always concocting elaborate, extreme, foolproof plans that leave little to no mess to clean because _he’s a good man_ and he doesn’t want to have the police cleaning up after him. But they don’t see it, never have and never will.

 

The world will never understand, because they've never seen him pick his outfits with such _care_ and _God, he knows_ he shouldn't even be investing so much time because no other murderer would be so grossly fascinated with looking handsome when they shows up at their victim’s doorstep. But it’s the little things that matter, and Xukun has made a habit of paying close attention because _that’s_ when you really see the world for what it is. And he pities them because _they’re so dumb_ , and Xukun always gives chances, always gives way too many chances but _they never take it._

 

_“Xukun, I—“_

 

 

_—Because that’s what humans are like._

 

 

When Xukun appears in front of them it’s as if they’re suddenly paralysed and he swears on many occasions he can _see_ the alarm bells going off in their puny little brains. It’s how they always focus on him, and him only, always putting up a mask of false bravado and he _knows_ this because he's seen so many fathers round up their kids and huddle around them and _God,_ if they just left their children outside and not on top of a couch about to blow up then _maybe_ they would’ve been safe. 

 

Because Xukun rarely ever aims for mass murder. It’s always one, on occasion two. Three is the maximum and Xukun doesn’t even _remember_ thinking up a plan for three because it’s way too much work. And he swears he tries so hard because its always him saying _knock knock, maybe try the door_ but they always think it’s too obvious but _goddamnit_ he’s being honest.

 

No one ever notices, because they’re frightened out of their hide once they see him and Xukun thinks if thats the case then _why not_ just peel off their skin since they don't need it anyway.

 

And it’s not like he hasn't done it before, it’s just rare because it takes so much _effort_ and Xukun is a perfectionist and _Zhengting’s always there to watch_. But it’s certainly not because Zhengting’s stares make his hands clammy, and it’s definitely not because Zhengting’s _smile_ makes him feel warm and jittery and just brings the whole mood down because _he just wants to focus on his baby._

 

_“Xukun…”_

 

* * *

 

And it’s how Zhengting _always_ begs him for more, for more pain and more suffering and it’s deadly attraction and _fuck_ Xukun just can’t get his voice out of his ears no matter how loud he blasts his music because its sweet to the ears and yet so jarringly discordant and Xukun. Wants out.

 

 

This wasn’t what Xukun had signed up for, and it _should_ have gone to plan. Because Xukun should be the only one who was capable of showcasing erratic behaviour but _somehow_ Zhengting managed to get in the way. And Xukun doesn’t want Zhengting around but the little shit just wouldn’t leave.

 

_“Zhengzheng, this is your last chance now…”_

 

_“What last chance?”_

 

 

And Xukun tries his hardest, remembers sliding a blade across his own skin as he sits facing Zhengting who’s strapped into a chair because _he can’t believe he has to do this._ It’s ridiculous, really, for Zhengting to still laugh and smile like a babydoll when he’s faced with literal walls of knife and the most heinous villain to have walked the Earth. 

 

 

_“To run from me.”_

 

 

Zhengting is obedient, and it makes Xukun sick in the gut because the clown only finds fun in resistance. And it’s what Xukun prides himself on, what sets him apart from all the other pathetic ‘clowns’ who are ridiculed by the public. It’s because _they_ entertain him and not the other way around but Zhengting isn’t fun to watch. 

 

So he does all he can and he _knows_ Zhengting is suffering because the boy will never be as good of an actor as him. No matter how many bones he breaks and nails he drives in Zhengting stays put, and every day he grows stronger while Xukun turns frail and he hates this feeling so damn much.

 

 

_“I never needed a chance…”_

 

 

It’s the balance in his life that he misses, because Xukun has only ever had one goal — to make the world bow down to him and he’s _close_. But Zhengting appears and he’s like a whirlwind, messing up all of Xukun’s perfect plans and Xukun’s patience declines every single time Zhengting bounces into his room, attempting to jump on his bed with his skimpy clothes and ridiculous accessories.

 

_“Kunkun why are you always—_

 

_“Always what, baby?”_

 

 

_“Always so… serious?”_

 

And there always comes a breaking point. Because Xukun’s _not_ about to drop praises when he finds him sitting in a tub of bleach like it _isn’t_ the stupidest thing he’s _ever_ seen someone do. It’s the playful glint Zhengting has in his eyes when he copies Xukun’s famous phrase so perfectly that makes him see red because _fuck Zhu Zhengting._

 

So he throws him on the floor and positions himself behind the controls and it’s all a manic haze from there because now Zhengting’s screaming in uncontrollable pain and _finally_ Xukun is entertained. So he turns up the power and watches as bolts of electricity travel through the tiny wires under his boots, and he knows Zhengting’s felt them when the water starts to fizz and Zhengting’s body contorts in ways he’s never known possible.

 

 

_“…You’re a monster, and I hate you for using me.”_

 

 

And Xukun thinks he’s finally won. So he’s calm as he offers himself up for death because Zhengting hasn’t changed. It’s still the same Zhengzheng with the wavering eyes and incoherent mumblings, and Xukun laughs because either way Zhengting has lost.

 

_“You never loved me…”_

 

_“That’s a lie, baby… You know I do.”_

 

 

Xukun’s actually startled when those words escape Zhengting’s lips because he could’ve sworn Zhengting was still in the dark. But it’s exhilarating because _he isn’t that dumb after all,_ so Xukun thinks he ought to keep him around longer and it’s the worst decision he’s ever made.

 

* * *

 

 

“These are for you.” Xukun says one day, as he leans on the doorway and stares at the brunette who jumps at his voice. And Xukun knows it’s because he’s been avoiding him after the whole fiasco last night, which is why Zhengting’s so shocked because Xukun _never_ approaches him first.

 

“W-what?” Zhengting stammers, and it’s cute because he’s not faking this time around, so Xukun decides to reward him because _those eyes._ So he strides forward and pushes the bouquet towards the man, who stares back dumbly before his lips turn upwards and suddenly Xukun finds himself in the tightest embrace.

 

_“Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!”_

 

 

And Xukun knows Zhengting could go on forever since Xukun’s got him wrapped around all his fingers, and it’s just _so funny_ because Zhengting’s a fool to ever have thought Xukun wanted him back in his life.

 

_“You love me, don’t you baby?”_

 

_“I love you Kunkun, I really, really do.”_

 

_“That’s good.”_

 

 

And that’s how it should’ve panned out, Xukun always pushing Zhengting until he bends and breaks, until he snaps and tries to take revenge and that’s when Xukun comes in and hugs him and whispers in his ear because that’s what keeps Zhengting come running back every time.

 

_“Y-you love me too, right?”_

 

_“Baby, you know I’m not made to love anyone.”_

 

_“B-but last night you said—“_

 

_“Move on from the past, Zhengzheng. For now, just stay in my arms.”_

 

 

_“… I hate you.”_

 

* * *

 

Its because Zhengting’s everything he never was and will never have. And he knows he technically _has_ Zhengting because the stupid boy has been clinging on to him ever since he’d stumbled into that prison cell with his messy hair and flushed cheeks and Xukun will forever and always have that image of him imprinted in his mind and _what is even going on right now?_

 

 

So Xukun blames it on the alcohol, because there’s _no way_ he’s thinking straight right now. It’s a mess of _zhengting this, zhengting that,_ and Xukun curses because _why_ did the brunette have to go and get himself killed and just _leave_ Xukun alone? 

 

And he thinks back to all the times Zhengting has told him _I love you_ and _fuck love_ because this isn't love. 

 

It isn’t love because Zhengting shouldn’t be able to just leave so fucking easily while Xukun’s left to suffer and _God_ he knows it’s always been Zhengting suffering by his hands but it was only because _he_ didn’t want to be the one getting hurt.

 

It isn’t love because if Zhengting truly loved him then _why_ is he gone when Xukun needs him most? He’s not the strongest man Xukun has chanced upon, he’s a far cry from it but _fuck_ , he’s exactly what Xukun needs right now because he’s lonely and he _misses_ the sweet whining that used to plague his mind.

 

 

And Xukun knows Zhengting is weak. He's known ever since they met because he remembers seeing Zhengting run his dainty hands down the sides of his lab coat and he certainly doesn't miss the tight grip he has on his clipboard. And it’s the way Zhengting clears his throat and attempts to look like he’s struggling to smile that brings a smile to Xukun’s face because Zhengting is _already_ whipped.

 

 

_“Patient Cai… Xukun?”_

 

It’s a good thing, and Xukun can’t decide if it’s because he loves being in power, or if he just felt lucky because Zhengting looks _good_. And it’s all physical at first, Xukun getting to his feet despite himself, moving closer to inhale Zhengting’s scent and _it’s so much more than he’d ever expected._

 

_“… That’s me.”_

 

 

And Zhengting surprises him every time, transitioning between different variants of fruity paradise and musky scents of bittersweet alcohol with such ease it sometimes ignites a pit of fury in Xukun because _they’re meant to be different._

 

It’s the only way they’ll ever complement each other, and Xukun is frustrated because _why can’t Zhengting just see it for himself?_

 

He remembers when Zhengting had snuck into his room late at night one day, recalls catching a glimpse of his shadowy figure and _God, he looks so good_. And Xukun’s about to give in to all of Zhengting’s desires because the snowy white skin and protruding collar bones are all Xukun has ever wished for and his choker is driving Xukun wild. But he’s wearing Xukun’s glasses and _fuck,_ the idiot’s decked out in Xukun’s jewelry and suddenly Xukun’s no longer interested.

 

And so he flicks a switch, directing the neon lights at the trespasser and Xukun’s confused because _why isn’t he leaving?_ And the next thing he knows the strangest praises are escaping from plump lips and _why do Zhengting’s words sound eerily familiar?_

 

So he takes another swig from his glass and watches as Zhengting freezes, and he's thankful because now’s the time for him to look down at the tattoo on his arm. Suddenly all the pieces come together and Xukun _really_ wants to die as he lowers his sleeve, but Zhengting’s still blabbering about his looks and _oh lord, he’s so adorable._

 

Xukun can’t hold back from teasing because Zhengting’s so precious and so he lets slip a gentle _you like it_ and the next thing he knows Zhengting’s running out the door and Xukun’s chase has begun. And it lasts barely a minute because Zhengting’s really not that fast and doesn’t know his way around the dungeon as well as Xukun, and Xukun expects him to falter as he lays him on the couch but _what is this beauty saying now?_

 

And it’s there once again, the confidence that keeps resurfacing no matter how much Xukun tries to quell it and _what does he want to learn?_ Xukun really wants to teach him everything, wants to give Zhengting everything he has because _its Zhengting_. But he can't bring himself to because he’s everything that Zhengting is not, and he _needs_ to preserve this innocence. He’s already given in once and _why_ did he choose that gun _fuck his life_ it’s all subconscious and Xukun _needs_ some peace of mind and—

 

 

_“Xukun, Kunkun!”_

 

—and Zhengting’s really not making it any easier for him. So Xukun opts to stay silent as he watches Zhengting doodle on the ground, injecting himself with whatever drug he can find because it’s the only way he can regain his sanity.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“…You think I’ll look good in blonde?” Zhengting asks for the third time in an hour and Xukun has to hold back from rolling his eyes because he _really_ doesn’t want to admit he would probably look good in anything. But Zhengting is persistent and Xukun’s stubborn, and its a chaotic mess because _why_ can’t they ever agree on anything?

 

And it’s frustrating and has Xukun pulling at his hair because its the one challenge Xukun doesn’t want to lose. He’s waged many wars over the years and success _always_ comes easily because he outsmarts others at the blink of an eye. But with Zhengting his senses are dulled and he’s intoxicated because _Zhengting is his kryptonite_. 

 

He makes Xukun weak when he begs and Xukun _swears_ it’s Zhengting’s fault he’s acting this way. And Xukun hates Zhengting but he adores him so much and they’re caught in a limbo that makes Xukun want to douse them both in kerosine and set themselves on fire but _why_ can he never bring himself to end Zhengting’s life?

 

 

_“Xukun, I love you.”_

 

Xukun reasons that it’s because Zhengting is fun. He’s a good toy to abuse because he never dies, always treats all of Xukun’s punishments as a personal challenge and Xukun is certain of this because Zhengting _always_ whispers the same thing in his ears when he thrusts the knife into his abdomen and carves yet another heart which he knows Zhengting will swoon over when he wakes up in the morning. 

 

It’s thrilling when he hurts him, and Xukun knows he's fucked up in so many ways because now Zhengting’s muted screams and airy gasps have become a melodious symphony and with every stab and hit Xukun goes higher and _fuck_ , what if he goes too far _(but why does he even care?)_

 

 

_“Fuck you, Zhengting.”_

 

_“W-what did I do?”_

 

_“Everything you’re not supposed to.”_

 

 

That’s always when his world comes crashing down, because _Xukun knows he can’t live without Zhengting_. It’s a realisation he’s come to a long time ago but only now does Xukun find the courage to verbalise it.

 

And he _knows_ he’s being a coward because Xukun _despises_ people who are weak, and Zhu Zhengting turns him weak every single time he materialises in front of him in his skimpy robe and unmatched contacts.

 

And Xukun knows Zhengting thinks he never notices, he knows precisely because he never misses the tinge of disappointment that appears in his eyes whenever Xukun pushes him off his lap. But what Zhengting doesn’t know is how much it takes for Xukun to do it because _he misses the warmth too._

 

_“That’s a lie, baby… You know I do.”_

 

And the words are bitter on his tongue because Zhengting’s never believed him even once, and Xukun is so annoyed because _why_ is this the only time Zhengting behaves like all the rest?

 

The glass is fragile in his rigid grasp, and he knows his knuckles have turned purple and his skin is punctured in all the worst ways but at least it numbs him slightly because drugs no longer work when Zhengting’s voice keeps on playing in his mind.

 

And Xukun hasn’t had a proper rest ever since the day he’d walked in to find nothing because literally Zhengting had blown up the fucking house _including all of Xukun’s posters._

 

And Xukun’s always known about those posters, and he remembers making a mental note of each and every one of the 113 there were because they meant something to Zhengting, and Zhengting meant something to him.

 

But there they were, scattered on the ground burning to ashes and Xukun is stumped for the first time in his life because _what_ is he supposed to do now?

 

_“Kun, will you ever grow tired of me?”_

 

* * *

 

_“Zhengzheng, do you see this?”_

 

Zhengting was high, that’s about all Xukun can say to describe him because his lids are fluttering shut and his lashes are blinding Xukun to everything else that’s happening. And he’s been through this enough times to know that nothing he does now will have any consequences, which is why he decides to let loose for once and kiss Zhengting’s lips.

 

And he misses the sensation, because all the other times he’s been forced to slap and kick Zhengting away before he even gets anywhere close to him. Because that’s how it was meant to be. 

 

He remembers those brutal acts had been accompanied by some of the harshest words Xukun has ever uttered, and he always does it with such frightening precision he _knows_ Zhengting will never know it pains him to hurl derogatory terms at his baby.

 

And he climbs off of Zhengting and rolls up his sleeve, shoving his wrist before Zhengting’s face and saying _read it_ in his most husky tone because he knows it always makes Zhengting squirm.

 

 

_“Y-you’re beautiful…?”_

 

_“Say that again, baby?”_

 

_“You’re beautiful.”_

 

Xukun bites on the end of yet another cigar as he stares down at Zhengting who’s eyebrows are still furrowed. And he wants to capture his lips again but he holds back because he’s not sure he can stop himself this time around.

 

_“Is something bothering you, Zhengzheng?”_

 

_“Mmm… Why is this on your wrist, Kunkun?”_

 

 

It’s only now that Xukun realises he’s never bothered answering any of Zhengting’s questions, because Zhengting never asks him to. So he pretends it’s because Zhengting isn’t even curious in the first place but Xukun has always known better.

 

 

_“… Because it’s what I want to say to you.”_

 

And it’s true. It’s Xukun’s cowardice showing once again because the clown doesn’t have emotions except for the one he paints on his mask, and it’s thrilling but frightening all at once and that’s why Xukun breaks down and cries in front of Zhengting so frequently as he clings onto his satin shirts.

 

It’s the reason why the only time he’d ever mutilated a man alive was when some douchebag _leered_ at Zhengting and Xukun sees red because _how dare Zhengting flirt back?_ And he remembers revving up his motorcycle and speeding off with Zhengting’s arms around his waist and he _knows_ he stepped hard on that pedal because it _makes him grip tighter._

 

_“Kunkun, I’m scared.”_

 

 

And Xukun knows he’s finally lost it now because Zhengting isn’t getting out of his head and _fuck has he always been this obsessed?_

 

 

And all he can see now are Zhengting’s hands curving over his gun which he _thinks_ is Xukun’s favourite gun but it’s actually the one he’d custom-made for Zhengting.

 

It’s the flashes of pale skin peeking through silvery garments that Xukun has only ever witnessed once because Zhengting _thinks_ he hates it but it’s really Xukun’s favourite outfit.

 

And it’s Zhengting’s smooth, unbleached skin that Xukun truly misses because _fuck, did he really make Zhengting do that?_ Because now he wishes he were home that day to stop Zhengting from being so stupid and the scene keeps replaying in his mind because _Zhengting could have died._

 

 

 

 

_“I-I hate you, Xukun.”_

 

_“Baby, you know you don’t…”_

 

His head is throbbing and he feels himself slipping so he pours the alcohol on his face. And it burns his eyes but it’s _so, so refreshing._

 

_“But I do, Xukun.”_

 

There’s a bitter chuckle and Xukun thinks he really needs a smoke right now.

 

_“Whatever you say, Tingting.”_

 

 

He thinks he’s leaning over far enough to reach but clearly he isn’t because he’s stumbling over the edge of the couch and _fuck_ he’s actually on the floor.

 

 

_“…You could never truly hate me.”_

 

And the tiny green box is so surprisingly close Xukun can’t believe his luck.

 

_“I hate you, Cai Xukun.”_

 

_How did Xukun miss the resolve in his tone?_

 

 

“Oh wait, I got it Ting…” And Xukun knows he’s speaking to air but _fuck that,_ the box is in his hands now. And he doesn’t even need to look before he’s dumping the matches onto the ground and picking one up because once again it’s the muscle memory that Xukun loves.

 

And it’s a blur, it really is. But Xukun swears Zhengting’s around here _somewhere_ so he pulls himself up and just _shouts_ because there’s really nothing to fear now. “Hey Ting, wanna hear something?”

 

The room is silent but it’s okay, because Xukun can fill in the pieces now that he’s so familiar with Zhengting’s voice.

 

And he’s hopeful until he realises _Zhengting’s never said yes to him_.

 

But it’s really okay, to Xukun everything is okay because suddenly he’s surrounded by images of Zhengting and he doesn’t even _care_ if he’s hallucinating and he just _hopes_ it’s real. And they’re all staring at him condescendingly, the Zhengting perched upon the tabletop in his favourite pair of furry ears, the Zhengting bouncing on his bed, and the Zhengting curled up in the corner of the room crying and holding onto Xukun’s gun.

 

_And it’s perfect, in this moment,_ because everything is so  _real_ it  _has_ to be this way.

 

 

“I’m going to say it anyway…” Xukun mumbles as he trips over the rug, crashing face first onto the stained rug that always reeks of alcohol and fruity fragrances. And the lighted match falls out of his grip and Xukun can smell the smoke but he’s much too giddy to care. It fills his nose and windpipes and Xukun feels suffocated and _wow, is this what Zhengting felt all along?_

 

 

_“Ting, can you hear me?”_

 

_“Patient… Cai Xukun?”_

 

_“Zhengzheng, listen to me…”_

 

_“I hate you.”_

 

_“I have something to tell you, Zhengzheng.”_

 

_“I don’t want to listen to a monster like you…”_

 

** “Zhengting, just listen to me for once.” **

 

 

And once again it's silent, as Xukun loosens his grip, smiling as he sees a familiar face approaching.

 

 

_"Tingting, you know what my favourite thing about alcohol is?”_

 

.

.

.

.

.

.

 

 

 

 

 

_“It’s flammable.”_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmm abrupt endings hehe...... 
> 
> should I do an epilogue?
> 
>  
> 
> Drop me some comments if you can, I really love reading and responding to all of them uwu and you can find me on twitter @valuranafaria for some rehab aft the shock of this (angsty?) fic with my twt AU hehe :>


	3. Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, not an actual chapter I just wanted to get a sense of what you guys want because I originally meant for this to be a two shot with an open-ended ending but reading your comments and from what people have said on my twitter it seems like y'all want an epilogue/more chapters? (Cont)

So yeah y'all can either comment here or on my twitter @valuranafaria if y'all would like maybe 1-2 more chapters or just one epilogue to kinda wrap things up!!

 

 

im just a little worried writing too much may deviate from my purpose a little but if you guys want more insight into their relationship dynamic then I'll try to deliver ^----^

 

 

 

thank you!!


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An epilogue to clear things up, this chapter is probably more explicit than the previous chapters which were very open-ended since it serves to bring closure to the prose. However, feel free to share with me your thoughts on what actually happened because I want to know if my writing has been capable of making you guys imagine your own scenarios in your head :)

_”What do you want?”_

 

Xukun’s voice was soft, but Zhengting knows better. He marvels at how Xukun maintains his composure all whilst seated in front of a dinky wood table, no doubt a cheap imitation from China, without so much as flinching. And Zhengting could see the red spreading across his palms, clear as day even from where he stood in the shadows, hidden away like a precious doll that couldn’t risk exposure to the blaring sunlight.

 

And he sees Xukun leaning back in his chair, all casual with a crooked smile plastered on his face. He watches, as Xukun strategically folds his arms across his chest, allowing the satin black to drape over his fingers, keeping them out of sight.

 

It pains him deeply, to see Xukun put up a front of nonchalance because Zhengting knows it hurts. _It’s nothing,_ he recalls Xukun whispering into his ears one night as Zhengting doused his hands in iced water, holding back his tears because _Xukun’s beautiful hands were inflamed_. And Zhengting knows it’s not his place to show concern, especially when Xukun repeatedly insists he’s fine because Cai Xukun doesn’t show weakness.

 

And Zhengting doesn’t notice his fingernails digging into his own flesh, because he’s so caught up in his own memory until _Xukun calls his name_. 

 

_“Zhengzheng, come here.”_

 

 

And Zhengting hesitates, because this isn’t how Xukun usually talks to him. It’s a familiar endearment, one that always makes Zhengting’s heart beat a little faster, but there’s an edge to it that makes Zhengting wary.

 

But he’s not worried for himself, because Xukun would never hurt him… right?

 

 

_“Zhengzheng, you know I don’t ask twice…”_

 

Xukun’s looking at him now, eyebrows raised threateningly but Zhengting sees calmness in his gaze. It’s an expression of Xukun he’s never been exposed to before, and it’s frightening and thrilling all at once. So Zhengting begins to walk forward, reminding himself this isn’t the time to jump into Xukun’s arms because it’s a _professional setting_ , and they’re not alone.

 

And Zhengting really wishes they were, but Xukun’s _friend_ certainly wasn’t making it easy for him to forget his presence.

 

“It seems like your whore doesn’t take kindly to orders, does he?” He hears the man say, and the chuckle that follows makes Zhengting stop in his tracks because _what did he just call him?_

 

It’s derogatory, and Zhengting hates people who belittle him. Because he’s so much more than just Xukun’s little slut, and he knows it’s true when Xukun reaches out and pulls him so harshly Zhengting almost topples into his lap.

 

And it’s interesting, because Zhengting sees the man —Yixing, was it?— raising his glass to his lips and he knows this looks like punishment for disobedience. It’s a good show, that much Zhengting knows, because now he’s seated on the armrest, Xukun’s arm around his waist while his other hand fiddles with a knife, and their rapport is simply astounding and Zhengting falls just a little bit more in love with _his_ Xukun. _“He’s not usually like this, are you, Zhengzheng.”_

 

But Zhengting doesn’t reply, doesn’t need to because he knows his role is that of a subservient, frightened doll. Knows it because of the way Xukun gazes into his eyes, because he feels the way Xukun squeezes his shoulders ever so gently that even Zhengting himself is surprised.

 

And he misses it all when Xukun tears his eyes away to face the evil that is Zhang Yixing, and Zhengting almost scowls. But instead he opts to remain silent, simply staring as Yixing motions for one of his bulky henchmen to step forward.

 

Xukun snorts, because the man is a textbook example of a guard that’s bound to be killed off somewhere during the crossfire, all tattoos running down his arms and dressed in an all-black ensemble that really does nothing to make him any more attractive to the rest of the world. And he feels Zhengting tense in his grip, but he doesn’t stop laughing because _this is his brand._

 

It’s out of place in the cold, dark cellar, but it’s what Xukun is known for, laughing in the face of danger and playing into the deepest pits of fire because only then can he satisfy his desire for chaos.

 

_“I’m sorry,”_ Xukun apologises half-heartedly, waving his gun absent-mindedly before directing it at Yixing’s face. And Zhengting thinks that respect ought to be given where due, so he credits Yixing mentally because he’s not even flinching. It’s the novelty that interests him, but it’s also that which makes his fingers intertwine with Xukun’s behind his back. _“Where were we?”_

 

And Zhengting watches as Yixing straightens up in his seat, heavily decorated fingers tapping a steady rhythm on the cold metal armrest and the words he utters has shivers running down Zhengting’s spine. “You get the land, I get your plaything.”

 

And Zhengting almost collapses in shock, because Yixing is staring at him now and Zhengting is suddenly aware that he has no means of escape. The wildness in his eyes isn’t far from that of Xukun’s when he glares at him with predatory intent all while whispering _“you’re mine”_ , but for some reason it’s different because Zhengting doesn’t want Yixing climbing atop him unlike how he wishes daily that Xukun would.

 

So instead he grips onto Xukun’s arm, fingernails digging into his skin and Zhengting can’teven begin to articulate how much he wishes Xukun would say no, and he’s on the brink of tears now but why is Xukun so composed even when he’s—

 

_“Deal.”_

 

 

And Zhengting’s heart shatters in that instant because Xukun isn’t joking around, not anymore. He can tell, by the way his lips aren’t quivering like they always do when he lies to Zhengting’s face, and from the way his grip around Zhengting’s torso loosens so swiftly that he doesn't even flinch when Zhengting topples over and onto the alcohol-stained rug like a broken puppet.

 

He feels a strong grip around his arm pulling him to his feet, dragging him over and Zhengting can’t even begin to process his circumstance before he lands in an unfamiliar embrace, dirty fingers running up and down his side and Zhengting has to physically resist the urge to throw up because it’s bringing back memories that plague him even in his sleep.

 

And he can’t even find the energy to struggle because he’s suddenly exhausted, so he just lets Yixing’s fingers trace his collar bones and he despises how vulnerable he’s become once the strings have been cut. But more importantly, he hates how Xukun is letting this happen because Zhengting knows he’d never forsake Xukun if he were given a choice. 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s memories like this that Zhengting revisits every time he’s alone, simply because there are too many of such incidents and Zhengting truly wants to sit Xukun down one day and ask why he does these things, why he lets Zhengting go when he needs him most. 

 

But it’s always Xukun who does the questioning, not him, so Zhengting knows he has to wait, until the day when Xukun is finally ready to let everything go. And he hopes he succeeds in artificially creating an opportunity for himself this time, because he’s been silently observing Xukun for years, and thinks he must at least have acquired _some_ manipulative techniques of his own.

 

Of course, it all depends on how much Xukun truly loves him, and Zhengting can only hope his hypothesis was right.

 

So he strolls on down the mountainous path, playing with the wildflowers blooming on the edges of the worn-down pebbled soil and shouting into the wind, feeling the most freedom he’s had in years. And it brings an ache into his chest, mainly because he knows he shouldn’t be feeling this way.

 

Because his heart belongs to Xukun, so naturally it only feels right when he’s by his side..

 

…right?

 

_“Don’t be silly, Zhengting, you know that’s how it ought to be.”_ And Zhengting doesn’t know why, but it feels strange as it rolls of his tongue, and he suddenly feels the need to hurry because _something isn’t right,_ and it isn’t because of him.

 

And his suspicions are confirmed because the house is in literal flames when he approaches, legs almost giving in as he dashes forward praying that Xukun wasn’t home. But somewhere in his heart he _knows_ Xukun must be there, because Xukun is much too smart to let anyone else enter their home, let alone burn it down.

 

_“Please, please, please, Xukun, tell me my instincts are wrong.”_ He whispers to himself as he bangs on the front door, a situation all too familiar but this time around he doesn’t have any explosives by his side. And suddenly he’s thankful because the wood is fragile against the rising smoke and dancing flames, collapsing once Zhengting rams his body into it and rushes into the room. 

 

 

And what he sees shocks him, quite literally. Because Xukun is laying sprawled out on the floor, fingers mere inches away from a long extinguished cigarette that must have started this whole commotion. And he doesn’t miss the way Xukun himself is mere seconds from being engulfed in flames and when he approaches there’s a strong stench of alcohol and Zhengting knows Xukun must have done the stupidest thing.

 

 

_“Zhengting, just listen to me for once.”_

 

 

And Zhengting’s hand clasps over his own lips and he can’t hold back from screaming because tears are running down his face now, and he falls onto the ground, having lost the energy and will to remain standing when he sees Xukun laying so helplessly in front of him.

 

By the time he regains his senses, a window has already been shattered from the pressure building up steadily, and the heat from the flames is stinging Zhengting’s eyes. But it hardly matters because soon enough Zhengting is scrambling to reach Xukun, screaming when a burning beam dislodges and nearly lands on his beloved.

 

 

_“T-ting, you know what my favourite thing about alcohol is?”_

 

 

_“K-kun, shut up and listen. I’m going to get you_

_out of here, d-do you hear me.”_

 

_"It's flammable."_

 

 

And Zhengting moves to hoist Xukun up before he can continue his damned commetary, grunting under his weight and stifling his cries when he sees Xukun’s arm hang limply by his side as if it had been detached from his body. “Why are you so stupid…”

 

_“Zhengzheng…? Why are you here…”_ Xukun mumbles, Zhengting wanting to hit him because he’s not cooperating, and Zhengting isn’t strong enough to hold him up alone. _“Zheng… zhengzheng do you hate me?”_

 

“Shut up, Xukun, just… just stand up, please.” Zhengting begs, cupping Xukun’s face in his hands and he hates himself for having ever left his side. “Xukun, please. Let’s get out of here, alright? We can talk all we want later on. For now, please, work with me Kunkun…”

 

 

_“I’m tired, Ting. I want to rest.”_

 

_“No. Xukun, don’t do this to me, come on.”_

 

 

Ashes rise and swirl in the air around the pair, Zhengting nervously fumbling with his hands as he watches more and more pieces of wood crumble from the once sturdy ceiling. So he glances down at Xukun one last time, whispering a silent _sorry_ before he stands up, and goes.

 

 

But he barely makes two steps before he stops himself, biting his lips until he draws blood and shaking his head as he turns back and grasps Xukun’s arm, dragging him along the tattered carpet because _he doesn’t want to live if Xukun isn’t there with him_.

 

And he can already picture Xukun chiding him for his idiocy, but Zhengting could care less because at the very least Xukun is now half-standing, still far too weak to move without Zhengting’s help. Zhengting has a sneaking suspicion it’s because he _doesn’t_ want to get out, but he won’t let that happen, because he’d never leave Xukun behind for anything in the world.

 

 

_“We’re… We’re almost there, Kunkun. Hold on…”_

 

And they really are, Zhengting blocking Xukun from a stray piece of falling wood, barely cringing at the way it hits his arm and nearly sets his jacket on fire. 

 

_“W-wait, Ting?”_

 

And Zhengting really wants to yell at him, to tear at his own hair and scream because _why is Xukun making this so difficult?_ But all it takes is one glance at the smiling man and Zhengting feels himself go limp because Xukun always has the ability to make his knees buckle even in the most dangerous of situations.

 

“Zhengzheng, do you hate me?” Xukun asks, and his voice is brimming with so much curiosity that Zhengting’s eyes lids flutter shut because suddenly he realises he can’t bring himself to answer. He loves Xukun, that will always be the truth. But he can’t say he doesn’t hate Xukun, because its a lie that both of them are privy to. “… Why are you doing this to me, Xukun?” 

 

_ “Because…”  _

 

“Because what?” Zhengting snaps, finally tired of Xukun’s games because all he wants is to leave the house because _this is a pathetic way to die._ And he feels Xukun’s fingers wrap around his hands, and he flinches for the first time in his life.

 

Xukun lets out a bitter chuckle, and Zhengting’s eyes well up with tears because for once, he can’t find it in himself to apologise. 

 

_“Let’s go.”_

 

“W-what?”

 

“I said, let’s go.” Xukun mumbles, standing up and motioning for Zhengting to do the same. And Zhengting doesn’t know what’s happening now, but he's mind is much too hazy to process anything because  _why can't he understand what's running through Xukun's mind now?_

 

And it’s silent as they walk, frailness and lack of oxygen making the trip feel like an eternity when really the door was mere minutes away. Xukun coughs, and Zhengting immediately turns back to drape Xukun’s arm over his shoulders, ignoring the amused glance that was shot his way. “Let’s go.”

 

But Xukun doesn’t move, and when Zhengting turns to question him Xukun is staring up and to his right, and his smile is enough to make Zhengting break and throw his arm down because _Xukun isn’t taking this seriously._

 

_“Zhengting, I-“_

 

_“Stop making this difficult, Xukun. Please.”_

 

 

_“Just… listen for a moment.”_

 

 

_“I’m not in the mood for your tricks. We need to go. Now.”_

 

 

The harshness in his own tone surprises Zhengting, but he can’t even bring himself to care because Xukun’s still laughing. “You always were a special one.” He says, and Zhengting scoffs because what is he supposed to say?

 

“You don’t have to say anything, Zhengting.” Xukun laughs, as if he’d read Zhengting’s mind. And once again he glances upwards, Zhengting much too tired to even bother following his gaze. “But just know this, Ting…”

 

“What?”

 

 

 

_“Just know that, I love you.”_

 

 

And suddenly Zhengting feels Xukun’s palm on his back, pushing him forwards and out of the doorway where he falls and lands on his head. It stuns him for a moment, and Zhengting curses in pain until realisation sets in because _where is Xukun?_

 

And he’s frantic, he really is, because gut feelings are never wrong. But the throbbing in his head is much too strong, and Zhengting can’t even feel the charred leaves between his fingers before his head lulls backwards and his eyelids shut against his will.

 

 

 

By the time he wakes up, Xukun is gone. 

 

  
And this time, it’s a permanent departure.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Xukun, do you ever miss me from where you are?”_

 

 

It’s a habit of his now, a question that Zhengting directs to the wind every day. And still he doesn’t receive answers, so all he can do is smile, because Xukun is still being his own cheeky self.

 

And it hurts sometimes, when he sees Xukun’s face floating in the distance, grinning at him with a bouquet in his hands and disappearing into nothingness the moment Zhengting approaches. 

 

Many a times he finds himself seeking relief, hoping to be reunited with his beloved Xukun once again. But no matter how much he tries, the slits just never work. Because its always been this way, because Zhengting could never hurt himself the same way Xukun could.

 

And he misses him, he truly does, from the way his lips curve upwards whenever he glances at Zhengting to the way he kisses Zhengting so aggressively it makes Zhengting swoon all over again. 

 

 

But loving Xukun has never been an easy feat, so Zhengting supposes he ought to be strong enough to continue living despite Xukun’s absence.

 

Because that’s what Xukun would have wanted.

 

 

Sometime ago Zhengting had found a notebook in his stash, hidden away under the piles and piles of posters that Zhengting still flips through every time he fears he’s forgotten Xukun’s beautiful features. It had been small but well made, the tiny scribbles that lined each page messy and indecipherable to all but the one for whom it was intended.

 

 

It’s a curious thing, really, how Xukun genuinely understood Zhengting as if he were an open book, while Zhengting had pranced around in circles all these years, barely digging at the surface of the mystery that was Cai Xukun whilst blindly believing he could predict the thoughts of the object of his desire. 

 

 

He realises now, that Xukun never detailed anything about his torture, which Zhengting hadn’t expected. Because he’d always believed Xukun was truly sadistic, and kept Zhengting around for his own fun.

 

But neither had he shown remorse for any of it, which Zhengting reasons is because Xukun knew that deep down, Zhengting had enjoyed it.

 

And he realises now, all the times when Xukun had looked calm and composed before putting a bullet in Yixing’s head, he’d blinked one too many times in a minute, tightened his grip a little too hard because he’d been forced to watch Zhengting be violated.

 

It’s only now that he remembers Xukun always staring up, and to the right. Not because he was distracted, because he could never focus on anything but Zhengting, but rather to keep an eye out for things that may have hurt Zhengting.

 

And now Zhengting feels a pang in his chest every time he turns on the stove because he realises that Xukun had _wanted_ to die, because only in death could he ever have mustered the courage to confess to Zhengting. 

 

 

And there is much more Zhengting has come to realise, minor details that had slipped past the corners of his ignorant eyes and oblivious nature, all of which have led to emotional roller coasters that send Zhengting’s heart swelling in joy before plunging him into deep despair because _Xukun is really gone now._

 

 

And as he sits upon the hilltop, Zhengting flips the tiny journal open and traces his fingers over the last line that Xukun had dedicated to him. A bitter smile forms, mostly because Zhengting can’t believe even in death Xukun wields so much control over him, but he finds he doesn’t mind.

 

_“Don’t let me become your weakness.”_ It reads, and Zhengting can only grin because this must be the one thing Xukun doesn’t know about him.

 

 

“Xukun, can you hear me?”

 

“Well, I hope the winds carry my message to you, wherever you are…”

 

 

 

“I… I love you, Kunkun. I really do.”

 

“And now I know you love me too…”

 

 

 

“It’s hard, Xukun. It really is. To have to live without you by my side.”

 

“Why did you have to leave me, Kun?”

 

 

“But… even if I miss you…”

 

“I’ll live on well, Xukun.”

 

“Because that’s what you’d have wanted, right?”

 

 

It's in that moment that Zhengting feels a gentle breeze blow past, and for a split second he thinks he hears Xukun’s voice humming a soft _yes_.

 

And it may have been hallucinations, or it may have been real.

 

But it hardly matters now, because now Zhengting knows for sure.

 

 

 

That their love, was real. And that no matter where Xukun was, whenever Zhengting finds himself in the sun’s warm embrace and the shelter of the stars in the night sky, he’d be reminded of one thing:

 

 

That Xukun shone like liquid gold, cascading like a glistening waterfall, filling in all the blanks that once left Zhengting’s life incomplete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, it's officially the end of "He Shines Like Liquid Gold"! 
> 
> I may be publishing an explanatory chapter following this one, not really in prose form but just to share with you some things I'd hope you guys would notice in my writing in the previous chapters, to show you guys my thought process while writing. But if you guys would rather not see it, then do lmk so I don't bore you guys haha. Or if you'd like to see it, do let me know in the comments as well!
> 
> I hope this has been an enjoyable read for you, it certainly has been a hell of a ride for me since I've never written in this style before, hopefully I haven't disappointed you guys and I genuinely love you all for having read this fanfic and gone through the journey with me.
> 
> I hope you guys will stay tuned for future works, find me @valuranafaria on twitter for updates on later works (I have one coming up, it'll be cute Zhengkun to make up for this emotional angsty rollercoaster) and idk, maybe just to have a discussion about this? :) I love you guys, thank you for all the support. It means a lot to me!

**Author's Note:**

> If you're hating on Xukun now, just wait.
> 
> Maybe you'll hate him more in the next chapter ;)
> 
>  
> 
> (I'm kidding I hope it redeems Xukun) 
> 
>  
> 
> And leave me comments I rly rly wanna know what yall think of this cause I'm so afraid it'll be a flop hsrkejsnjf please please let me know what you think aha ily <3


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